The Hurricane
by DreamsofaDreamer
Summary: As requested, the full-length feature of "The Hurricane" is now underway! You can read the O/S if you're an eager beaver and want the run-down before we go right into this thing. You can also wait for the go-ahead (which will happen after E&B hook up). Summary the same as the O/S below, lemons galore, and everything from university to life beyond the confines of a diploma.
1. Chapter 1 (Prologue)

_I had been calculating how long this good fortune had before it would run out. So much so that it ignited a fire in me that made it almost impossible to let it go to waste. I sat, waiting, waiting for it all to be okay again. I guess it wouldn't ever be okay, but I hoped it would. I hoped to god it would._

_How could I have been so lucky? To have experienced this when I had been sure it was all a sham? That the collision of skin-on-skin sparked something magnificent. That the warmth of someone else was something to be craved. That another's life was the very thing that made me feel alive and at the same time had the potential to destroy me._

_I was very lucky, indeed._

_And like all good things, they end in a flurry of explosions. Bursting, unable to be enclosed by their seams anymore. A flash of inspiration passing so quickly that it chokes you from the inside out. You feel it. You feel it on every inch of your skin. The burn of something so beautiful that the fleetingness of it leaves you stunned. _

_Breathless. _

_You know it existed. You feel its lingering kiss on the corner of your mouth. The hands on the curve of your back leaves a haze of heat. You imagine it in your sleep and kiss it goodbye. You see it in your dreams, content to be reunited with it once more._

_It crumbled in my grasp. Tentacles gripping at my sides, pulling me away from it. As if any more distance between us could ever pull us apart. As if time would dull the ache in my heart. As if the tendrils of something so powerful could slip away in an instant…as if it were nothing more than something transitory._

_But I knew this day would come, I just didn't know how it would. I had been counting on it the moment we locked eyes, you and I._

I choked on my own tears, biting back the screams that bubbled in my throat threatening to spew out of my mouth like a prisoner. How could I have been so lucky?

I left the paper right where I left it, a little crumpled from having holding on to it so tightly. Waves of panic mixed with that of adrenaline. A lethal combination. I had no choice but to go. I stumbled outside, past the white picket fence, past the flower beds, the mail box with our names on it and braved the hurricane that threatened to take my life apart.

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**Here we go, here we go! **

**Welcome to the totally made up world of _The Hurricane! _Let me, DreamsofaDreamer take you on a trip, exploring the lives of two of FanFiction's most beloved characters, Edward Cullen and Bella Swan! Tell ya what, you go ahead and read that O/S because we all know that E and B ALWAYS get to hook up whenever possible. If you do read it, I promise it will NOT give you any spoilers for the plot of the full length feature. **

**You are in for a RIDE, my friends. Seriously, my life is composed of thinking about plots, plot twists and invented conversations. I love writing and it almost always is a reflection of my mood. As you can tell, I was sorting out some pretty heavy stuff when I wrote this. Now that it's all out, let's go ahead into the actual things I want you to think about! **

**1. Who wrote that letter? Edward or Bella?**

**2. What is the significance of having a relationship stemming out of a hurricane? Please tell me what it foreshadows. Let me tell you what Isabella thinks:**

**_A hurricane brought us together. It was inevitable that a hurricane would pull us apart. Foreshadowed like a sick tragedy, we rose out of a storm. It only signified we were destined to drown like two swimmers, desperate for a breath of air. Clawing at each other, forcing the other above the water so that they would survive. _**

**3. Right so if you couldn't guess, I'm a total Shakespeare nerd and having just finished reading _Macbeth _in class, I based those last two lines on something that was said in Act II. Review with the quote and I'll share my thoughts with you! (And give you a high-five!)**

**4. Playlists are my friend. Please see these songs for the playlist of the prologue: Hommage by Patrick Watson and rainy mood. Both on ze youtube.**

**Alright, I'll be leaving you to your thoughts now. Bye! **


	2. Chapter 1: Incoming!

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing! A thing I tell ya! **

**A/N: It has been a long, long time. But I finally know where I want this story to go! Woohoo! Please forgive me. Things will become interesting, I promise! I'll try not to stray too far from ****_The Hurricane: The One Shot, _****but if I do, it's to keep the plot I have in mind alive! I like staying true to the books in terms of important things, however I also like straying as far away as I can from it!**

I hope y'all enjoy the musings of my mind. I'd much enjoy a beta and so if you're interested...

**Remember to review! I love feedback and constructive criticism! **

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**Chapter 1: Alice**

Meeting Alice in person was one of the more bewildering experiences of move-in day. My parents couldn't afford the trip from home leaving me to do it all. Alice was a god-send. The second she knew I was her roommate was the second she added me on Skype and video-chatted me. It was three in the morning where I was and seven where she was. My phone buzzed under my pillow – it never did – and I had an enormously hard time willing myself out from under the sheets to answer it.

I mumbled a sleepy _hello _and –

"ISABELLA! Hi! My name is Alice!"

I nearly dropped the phone. My eyes burned at her beaming smile on my screen. My ears ringed from the sounds that she was making. It took me a second to register that she was talking a mile a minute, profusely apologizing for waking me up. I didn't care what I looked like at three in the morning, but her comments about my bedhead were distinctly teasing, I think. She hung up with another _So sorry! Goodnight! _and I called her back just after breakfast, noon her time.

Alice booked a trip to Vancouver a week later so we could _meet and talk and stuff! _I could already tell that it would be difficult to say no to her. I left the decision up to her and the next thing I know she's talking colour schemes and bed spreads, chandeliers and nail polish.

I already knew Alice was well off, but when she gave me a tour of her house over Skype one evening, her closet made me speechless. I don't think I owned that many articles of clothing in my life time. I felt shy knowing that my house – a two bedroom house at the fringes of the city, white paneling and a busted air conditioner – would be akin to a cottage they rented out to their horses. I wasn't sure about Alice coming to visit at first, but upon considering how much I'd come to enjoy her friendship I agreed. Charlie, my father, was more excited than I was.

We picked Alice up at the airport, pink luggage, sunglasses, polka-dot umbrella and all. She was nowhere near as excited as excited as she was on Skype. In fact she took that and multiplied it tenfold. Her energy was insanely contagious and I found myself hugging and _heeeey-_ing right along with her. At the time, her pixie cut was non-existent. Her hair went past her hips and was half her size. That was enough to send me into a fit of giggles. She was tiny, really.

"Bella, show me _everything _Vancouver has to offer," she demanded. "I've never been here before!" And that we did. Charlie and I took her for a driving-stop-in-the-middle-of-a-busy-street kind of tour and before we knew it we were home. Alice stayed for a week and a half. There were less than two weeks until move-in day so her timing was perfect. She unpacked while I showered and while she showered – we only had one bathroom – I made dinner. It was a buffet of finger-foods and a non-stop conversation about the Mariners, my dad's favorite baseball team.

Alice and Charlie got along splendidly, to say the least. He was a massively tall, moustached, police officer who developed a soft spot for her by the end of her stay. His eyes bugged out of their sockets when she requested that we watch the game – and since then I've found time to admire Alice's ability to get along with just about anyone.

We stayed up all night just _talking. _Up until that point, I didn't have any girlfriends close enough to have open conversations with. By the end of the night, Alice learned about my parents' divorce, my virginity, my crushes and past boyfriends, my dreams, and my sincere distance for all things blended meat. As much as she could talk, Alice could listen. Her commentary only served to pull more out of me. She noted my hesitancy to say things and damn did she ever break my walls.

Alice was the middle child of two much in love parents. She had an elder brother in law school and a younger brother striving to come up with the next big scientific discovery. Alice wanted to go into business with a minor in design of all sorts. She mentioned her twin's tragic battle with cancer and revealed the reason behind her long locks. She was trying to find the courage to cut it. Later on she called me to say that she cut all her hair off and donated it to make wigs for children. Before she left, we went shopping for our dorm together. Teal, pink and green was going to be our theme. I picked out the basics and the rest she said she'd surprise me with – and surprise me she did.

On move-in day, the biggest shock besides Alice's hair was our room. She'd set it up so that there were sections for sleeping, studying, and hanging out. My personal favorite was the latter as it housed all the food. Alice filled my closet half way with things she bought for me and it still allowed me ample room to put my own clothes in. She was upset that happened because she wanted to throw a couple of my _ratty old jeans _away – the condition being that whatever didn't fit would be _shipped outta here_.

We were both sitting at our hang out section on our respective teal and green bean bag chairs when a couple of other first-years told us about the floor meeting. There we met twenty other students – eleven boys and eleven girls all in all – played ice breakers and learned the rules about living on residence. _Rez _as they called it. The first afternoon passed with Alice and I catching up on stuff. Dinner came and we were both nervous to head down to the dining hall.

As we passed each room, we invited our floor mates to come with us and thus came the beginning of a wonderful _floorationship_. Meeting everyone again without the guise of a meeting really allowed everyone's personalities to mix. We decided to take two pizzas to our table and re-introduce ourselves as we took a slice. I spoke as much as I felt comfortable with and quickly became known as _Bella with a silent Bella._

I feared for my life during Frosh Week. Everybody was so _excited. _Alice and I were separated into different teams and I no longer had my interpreter. We were a group of fourteen-turned-fifteen when another boy joined our group. If Alice were beside me, she'd look at me and wiggle her eyebrows.

"I spy," she'd say.

"I spy indeed," I'd reply.

I was struck with a pang of nervousness. My _I spy indeed _was stuck in my throatand I couldn't make any thoughts except for, _wow_. Everyone was hugging him. It was the ritual. Everyone had to be hugged by everyone. I stood to the back and far away from the group to still be considered in the group. The tree to my left looked mighty interesting in that awfully timed moment. Alice would have caught my arm and told me, "This aversion to the cute guy over there has got to stop. Don't make me make you hug him because you know I can and it _will _be embarrassing."

I still had to hug Edward Cullen.

Even though Edward looked _the type _he was more like me than anyone else in the group. Never once did I think his short and clipped answers were rude. Actually, the uncomfortable expression he wore on his face, plus his body language and 'not impressed' eyebrow raise told me more about his inner commentary more than anything. Being shy _definitely _had its perks.

I'll just admit here that I attended every single Frosh Week activity because Edward was going to be there.

Edward Cullen had one of _those _faces. If it were up to me, I'd admire him from afar. If it were up to _him, _however… he had a habit of gravitating toward me in times of Frosh Hell. Anything involving cheering, painting, singing, dancing, sprinting and touching landed under that category. The both of us would take a couple of steps back and watched the rest of the team pack themselves together like sardines.

I think Edward and I had a sort of silent truce. We'd laugh, scoff, snort and shake our heads at the things that the others did…and that's essentially all the communication that went between us. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I ogled Edward. Okay fine, I would. Edward was a fine specimen. In a sample of a million there were probably one of him and thousands of girls that were more pleasant to the eye.

That's how the rest of the week went, I supposed. By the end of it, I accepted my fate as Edward's literal silent partner and moved on with it. We were poor sports together. _I made some friends, _I'd say to Alice if she asked.

Like that would happen.

Alice was watching me all week, turns out. How I never spotted her once even though she was my beacon in this mess of a tradition was beyond me.

"I see you," she said as soon as I walked in the room on the last day of festivities. "I see you and that boy. The one with the hair and the face and the skin you seem to rake over with googly eyes." Her lips went wide. When I blushed, she bared her teeth exuberantly.

"OH I KNEW IT!" She squealed. "I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEEEEW IT!"

"Alice, please. We haven't even said a word to each other."

"BUT YOU GUYS SPEND THE ENTIRE DAY TOGETHER HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?" She started throwing her pillows at me. I ducked and spoke between her impressive aim.

"I –" pillow. "Don't –" she dove for my bed. "KNOW!" Even more pillows.

She took to the blankets. "Bella, seriously. You shy people are something else."

"Time just passes, Alice. I mean we look at each other, and of course I look at him but…"

"But what? Don't you dare even say what I know you're going to say."

"Alice, I can't. I get so choked up! Don't you think I _want _to say something to him? I don't enjoy it. Believe it or not I think I just met my match in terms of shyness." I sat down on the pile she created at my feet. "I'll see him in my classes so maybe then I'll find something to say."

But I never did.

Edward was in most of my lectures but in only one of my tutorials, thank goodness. I'd always see him out of the corner of my eye because of his stupid gorgeous hair, body and face… I'm damned. I'm hooked and Edward was it. It was always _The Edward Cullen _that came up in conversations. _Oh you mean sex on legs? Damn I'd fuck him in a second. _Girls. It didn't matter who they were, Edward Cullen was a God. Lesbians considered bisexuality. Men stopped cutting their hair in hopes that they could attain a fraction of what Edward's hair normally did.

First semester went like this: Go to class, do what Alice was doing, go to the library, study, eat. My crush on Edward Cullen remained in the background. As did he. Always in the background…

But we always had a habit of catching each other's eye.


	3. Chapter 2: Moth to Flame

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING! Except for my plot.**

**A/N: Here comes chapter two! A lot of things happening in this one! Enjoy and please let me know what you think! **

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**Chapter 2: Moth to Flame **

English was interesting, to say the least. I was at a cross between being mildly amused by our silent sport and being increasingly aggravated by it. I wasn't in denial. I was attracted to Edward and I knew it. I couldn't help but imagine him, me and conversations about Shakespeare's sonnets over coffee at the Lower Lounge. At the same time, I couldn't help but feel bristled by our lack of communication. I wished so badly for him to see me. For _Edward _to finally see me.

It wasn't purely about his looks, not at all. Edward was interesting. Though he was shy, he never hesitated to speak up about something he felt that he could add to enrich class discussion. The way he spoke so assuredly – much unlike myself – about his opinions made me wonder about how he came about such dramatic conclusions. His insight regarding the significance of certain literary devices never failed to blow my observations out of the water. And his taste in music. God. The night I finally allowed myself to click the _Follow _button on Twitter, I was a goner. Alice told me we were a music match made in heaven, and I beamed.

Sharing the same taste in music wasn't much, but it made me feel more assured that _maybe_, just maybe, I'd interest him too.

The thing about social media was that it made people have the bravery to say the things on their mind that they wouldn't normally say. For instance, I'd say _What a nice night out _when I'm out with a group of friends. But when I'm on Twitter I'd say something like _Nights like these make my skin spark. Waiting for something magical to do it justice. _

Magical indeed.

When Edward followed me back a moment later, I resisted the urge to squeal in delight. My inner cynic stomped up to the forefront and said_: Great, now you two can virtually stalk each other. How romantic. _At that point, I'd debate myself on whether or not I should unfollow him. But how would that seem to him? I'd consider all viewpoints on the matter and by the end of it I'd leave it alone because Twitter wasn't all that important anyway, right? I'd have a conniption trying to go back and forth with myself.

Needless to say I left subtle hints about my feelings on my timeline.

This crush was overwhelming.

By the end of first semester, I had it bad for Edward. It was so pathetic. I hated everything about it. I always made fun of the girls on TV shows who couldn't put a crush behind them even though the guy didn't seem to really care about them. Now, being on the other end of the entire thing made me feel even more sorry for myself. He'd look at me, then swiftly turn away. My eyes would find his then it would be my turn to avert my eyes with a blush.

Those months preceding Christmas Break came and went before I knew it, it rolled around altogether. After weeks of not having the time nor energy to dwell upon Edwardian things – the name Alice co-coined to describe Edward-related matters – because of exams, I decided to purge myself of it all. I didn't need some lame – not really lame – crush to make me feel like I was worth any less than all of those girls who crushed on him. I was worth something and if Edward didn't do something, then I would.

It was the last tutorial of the semester and we were ending with sentimental notes and goodbyes of sorts. Our TA was one of those _New Year, New You _type of people – he'd get along fabulously with Alice. He was fashionable, tall and had scalp-cropped hair that made me unsure about its actual colour. We all knew the drill; at the beginning of class we'd hand in our musings – a page or two at most – he'd read them quietly at his desk, then try to match piece to its owner. He was spot on, most of the time. We'd then have to share our work aloud.

When he came around to my desk, a desk I shared with a cheery male equestrian whose blond hair and brown eyes mirrored those of his horse – I knew this because at the beginning of the semester we had to create a Powerpoint about ourselves – Mr. TA narrowed his eyes at me…and then at Edward who sat at the other side of the U formation we were in, almost directly across from me. His head flipped between the both of us and he frowned.

"You two have been plotting against me all semester, haven't you?" He asked with a smirk. "I'll have you know that the two of you were separated at birth. You should try to get to know one another, it seems you may have a lot more in common than you think," he winked.

I don't know if he did this on purpose, but he definitely didn't give me my paper. I looked up at Edward whose cheeks and ears were flaming red. He was reading my words – some of my innermost thoughts regarding him, our silence and the fact that I was so inexplicably drawn to him that I was tired of being ignored. I couldn't tell who blushed the hardest.

I couldn't look down at his paper. It felt about three pages thick. I could see his handsome cursive sprawled evenly along each line and that was all I let myself take in. Edward's jaw tensed a couple of times and after a page into the damn thing he palled. He'd been growing another study beard and as much as I loved the rugged look on him, coupled with his reaction of reading my work, he looked haggard and worn.

I knew it was gutsy for me to write what I had written. I had meant to say it aloud where I could deliver it straight into his thick head. But now, having him hold my words in his hands, having him read it for himself without the inflections I meant to say with it made it seem like a terrible thing to write. I was panicking. My stomach churned and I wanted no more than to rip it from his hands and burry it in a snow drift.

He trembled, before dropping his hands entirely, letting the paper fall to his desk so he could paw at his scruff. His brow furrowed and I wondered what it was he thought of that made his eyes burn with _something. _I couldn't handle it anymore. I felt like my privacy had been violated and I couldn't decide now if I wanted to kill or thank the TA responsible. I took a post it note, scrawled an _I didn't read it, I couldn't _in my messy printing and stuck it to the back of Edward's sheet.

When the rest of the class was reading the rest of their stuff aloud, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. His shoulders were slumped, head bowed and maybe he resigned himself over to the fact that I was done waiting. I almost wished that I didn't write what I did and instead wrote about how I would be hopeful this New Year.

When it came time for us to read, we both used our free pass cards that had been given to us at the beginning of the semester. I was glad I had saved it to the end and enormously relieved that Edward had as well. I dropped Edward's paper on his desk before I sprinted out of class and mumbled a brief _Merry Christmas _to the teacher that singlehandedly humiliated me and eliminated Edward from my life.

I later learned that his name was Jasper Whitlock, BA and aspiring PhD in Psychology. Alice bombarded me with ice cream and coffee when I got home. I texted her about the whole ordeal as I speed walked to her waiting arms.

When she went to seek out Mr. Whitlock for a good chastising he explained something to her that he'd be glad to explain to me once Edward and I got _our shit together. _She was in a daze the entire afternoon she got back and while she was initially fueled by hatred and extreme distaste for the guy, she was completely in awe of his tactics to get Edward and I communicating. Now that we were both aware of each other's feelings, it would be hard to ignore them – much to my chagrin. That was my goal for Christmas Break, for the New Year and beyond. I wanted to get over Edward. _Wanted._

Now I wasn't sure what I wanted.

After Alice left for home, I began to realize several things in her absence. One, my fashion taste really did need an upgrade. Two, confidence can come from how you present yourself. Three, she left me multiple outfits to wear _when the time comes. _And four, Edward Cullen was going to _always _be on my mind.

The whole fiasco in tutorials left me in a daze. At some point during the break, Edward knocked on the door and left his paper on the door step. _Read it, please, _the Post-it attached to it said. I saw him through the peep hole and couldn't bring myself to face him. Not yet, anyway.

I read it and wept. I couldn't Skype Alice because I didn't have anything to say…or couldn't rather. Edward confessed that he would be entirely too shy to do _anything about anything. _His paper was far more encouraging than mine ever was. His resolution for the New Year was to make _something out of something that was already extraordinary. _I could tell that it was written for me. I could tell that it was Edward's way of opening up. And I could tell that he now thought I rejected him.

That we were done and I wanted to be left alone.

I think I stayed in my bedroom all day. I wondered if Edward went home to see his parents and if he lived close enough to drop the thing off and then go back home. I curled up under my blankets and emailed my mother, telling her everything was a-okay and that she should just relax and enjoy her time abroad. I called Charlie at Christmas Eve and Day getting only his voicemail. He called me back later to apologize for being absent – there was a murder investigation going on in his division. An entire family was wiped out by a deranged and drug addicted ex-husband. Three young children and parents who were the epitome of community involvement.

I made dinner for myself and woke up to a knock at the door and a present on my door step. _Merry Christmas, Bella. _My heart thudded and dropped. Into the pit of my stomach. Or was it my stomach that flipped to where my heart was? It was from Edward.

I stared at it as I sat cross-legged in the center of my bed. It was within arm's reach and I tried time and time again to muster up the courage to open it. It was very heavy and due to the rustling of objects inside it, I knew there were multiple gifts.

It was nearly a quarter past eight when I gingerly took apart the blue packaging and white snowflake bows. CDs of every band I mentioned wanting to see. A snow globe of Paris. DVDs of movies he watched and didn't want me to miss out on. Gift cards to restaurants in the city. A Mariner's jersey. A bottle of expensive French wine. Samples of his writing. A story he wrote in first semester – the one that made it to the University's paper as part of the _Up and Coming _feature.

There was more, but I didn't make it to the bottom of the box before I pulled on my boots and jacket and ran out onto the street looking for him.

He _had _to live nearby, that or he stayed on campus altogether. The streets were empty. The stores were closed. The entire campus re-opening once classes resumed. I searched for him and was heading into the student ghetto when I saw his stupid shiny Volvo parked in front of what I assumed was to be his house.

I didn't give myself time to think. I took the front steps two at a time not pausing for a second to take in the wreath, poinsettia plants and other novelties that decorated his porch. I knocked on the door with relentless fervor and when it opened, laughter filtered through. An older man and who I assumed to be his wife stood there, smiles growing wide before falling. They looked like Edward. I froze.

"Did Eddie forget his key?" I heard the tittering of more voices before I saw faces. Five or six other people filled the double doorway, all looking at me with faces that ranged from confusion to amusement. I wasn't dressed to the nines like they were.

"Can we help you?" The older woman asked. "You must be looking for Edward." I nodded, my pulse hammering in my ears out of embarrassment. "He just went to grab us some logs from the side of the house, if you'd like to go see him."

I didn't need to. Edward Cullen was standing at the base of the stairs not even a moment later, cheeks and nose rosy, hair trapped under a grey beanie. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't. I whispered a meek thank you to Edward's family and walked down the steps in the same breath. I waved at him, looking at his shoulder, not at his eyes, and sped walked down the sidewalk. I broke into a run once I was sure I was out of their line of site.

I should have known that Edward was going to run after me. He blocked my path and it took all coordination I had to not slam into him. I did anyway. He caught me in his chest and we almost fell over from the impact.

His eyes were searching my face as he steadied me, looking for something I wasn't sure he'd find. I couldn't find my words and neither could he, though it would have been a perfect time to. I shook my head, willing myself not to cry. I was so overwhelmed with feelings and confusion and questions that I didn't know how to address them all. Everything came bubbling up to the surface. Edward took me into his arms again, and I curled up against his jacket. He smelled of cinnamon and pine wood. I probably smelled of nervousness and desperation.

He walked me back to my dorm, carrying a plastic bag filled with food he took from his dining table on our way there. I didn't have it in me to say something. I smiled my thanks to him at my door but he pushed himself inside, setting up the plates of food and cutlery on my desk. He blushed when he saw the pile of presents on my bed.

I took a sheet of paper and summarized everything I could. I began with my thank you's and ended with a Merry Christmas and apology for barging in on Christmas brunch. I said nothing about feelings. I said nothing about _where do we go from here. _

He hugged me once more, pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead in what felt like a farewell and that was the last I saw of Edward Cullen.

Until a year later.


	4. Chapter 3: At Once, All

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NAAAATIIIIIING! The great and powerful Meyer owns it all!**

A/N: Hey guys! I'm in LOVE with this Bella and Edward, mostly because I've been pulling out their emotions/situations from my own experiences as a human being. I've got so much more in store for you folks so stay tuned! I know that many, many, many of you guys favorited/followed/alerted me and this story so THANK YOU OH SO VERY MUCH! I quite enjoy writing this, but it is a lot of work. I'd like to know what you guys think! Please review! I need feedback! I like constructive criticism and like hearing your little comments...even if it's just an AWW or PLEASE UPDATE SOONER! The more I get, the more I feel like chucking a chapter out as fast as I can! I know, it's an evil thing to say but it's true. Reviews really do make an author feel more confident in their work, I'm no exception.

Without further ado...

HERE WE GO, HERE WE GOOOOO!

Enjoy!

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**CHAPTER 3: In Between **

On my birthday, September 13th, Alice took me out for a night out with some of our floor mates. There wasn't anyone in particular that I'd have conversations with – save for awkward hallway talk – so the entire night consisted of Alice trying to get me drunk enough to make friends. Being nineteen was the grandest perk of all, apparently. I wasn't just another person that underage-undergrads come to in order to buy alcohol. Apparently I was also at my prime _for any copulation that might occur. _

Alice was mildly buzzed when she said that. Though due to her small amount of _person _she took up, I wasn't surprised at her being a lightweight. We were at the local campus bar dubbed _The Locker Room. _It was a mirage of sports fanatics, men trying to get laid and girls leaving nothing to the imagination. This was what people were like four days after the official start of the school year. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see them at the end.

Jacob Black was a server there and that was the first night he asked me out. Jacob was easy on the eyes as much as anyone else was. It was his sunny disposition and warm smile that did girls in. Luckily, Charlie spent most of my teenage years telling me that all men were creeps with only one goal in mind. It took someone significant to really capture my attention.

I wasn't much of a hunter like other girls were, but Alice's _I spy _and suggestive eyebrow raise indicated I wasn't doing too badly. Jacob Black was a nice enough guy. Nice smile, laid back, and had a free ride to university due to his Aboriginal status. It might have been the alcohol, but I vaguely remembered laughing at him when he asked the second time around, offering me a free pint if I said yes. I was completely sober for his third, fourth and fifth attempts and even then I managed a forced chuckle.

"No, I don't date."

"Why not? I could be that someone special," he pressed.

I lengthened my strides, seeing the science complex coming into view. He had caught me on my way to a lecture. "Jacob, I said no."

"Bella, just one date. Please." He started running backwards in front of me. I laughed at how desperate he was being.

"You're going to make me late for class!" I yelled as I ran around him, bolting to the front doors. His massively muscular body easily blocked my way, surprisingly.

"That's not a reason, you know."

"Well Jacob," I huffed, making my arms akimbo. "What if I just don't want to?"

"I'll treat you right, Bella. I swear," he pleaded.

I resisted the urge to smack the puppy dog look off of his face. "Jacob, I said no."After brushing past him and shoving my irritation into a corner of my brain, I walked into Biology a few seconds after the professor began his lecture. I earned a few sniggers as raced to the only free seat in the room. Edward glanced up at me as I passed, bemused. A small smile stretched on his lips.

A blonde girl in the same row turned back to see what _The Edward Cullen _was looking at. I first thought that she was gorgeous – one of the few girls I could truly say I wish I looked like – but she then scowled, breaking through her beauty with envy-green laser beams shooting from her eyes. She could have fried me if she tried any harder.

That's when I learned why Rosalie Hale hated me.

Class ended with a collective shuffling. I took my time packing up as I had no particular place to be other than in my dorm to await dinner with Alice. I wasn't paying particular attention to the sound of heels climbing the auditorium stairs, but when the sound was moving in my direction, I looked up. I saw her mile-long legs first with a pang of jealousy, then her totally flat stomach and push-up bra boobs. Again, with a pang of jealousy.

"Yes?" I asked in a non-lethal tone. Merely curious as to what she wanted and the reason behind her murderous glares.

"Why does Edward look at you all the time?" She questioned with narrow eyes. "Do you guys have history? Fuck buddies? Private tutor? One night stand gone wrong?"

I held back an eye roll with a desperate grasp. "History? I don't recall ever taking that class with him, sadly."

Her face grew pink. I raised a brow in defiance. Oh I knew what she was getting at, alright. Rosalie liked Edward, I liked Edward…it was the kind of thing that turned people feral.

"You're such a smart-ass, Swan. You'd better back off. He's _mine,_" she practically growled.

"Well you'd better get in line. More than half the student population wants him, Rosalie. Men, included, so I'm sure you can guess that the odds are stacked against you."  
"Do _you _want him?" She asked with a smirk. Her pink bubble gum lips rubbed together, I watched the strings of connected lip gloss stretch over her teeth and smiled.

"We all know that it doesn't matter who wants who. It's game to you people," I said, gesturing to her get up. "He's entitled to his own choices without the interference of girls like you who _think,_" I emphasized, "that they can get anyone they want."

She gaped at me, face growing steadily redder the angrier she got.

"Besides," I said as I stepped up to her. "Boobs aren't everything. Though they're nice to look at, I think that a person like him deserves someone better. Who _wouldn't _stoop to threaten a girl just because he seems mildly interested in her. And, this may be completely off topic so correct me if I'm wrong: I think you're not confident in the fact that you can singlehandedly attract a guy like Edward." I moved to stand a step above her. "Rosalie, I am a threat to you only because you think I am. Now that wouldn't be the case if it wasn't true, would it?"

With that I smiled at her sweetly and acknowledged her friends when I walked through the exit doors. I felt confident knowing that I had gotten my point across. I may be shy but I always stood my own ground. Girls like Rosalie walked all over girls like me and it felt _damn _good knowing that she was still standing there in shock. I saw his backpack before I saw him.

Realizing that the extremely beat up leather satchel was indeed Edward's, my heart flipped. He was walking in the same direction that I was and the only room in the corridor was our lecture hall…meaning that he overheard the entire conversation. His hurried strides seemed odd to me. He shoved the doors open when he got to them, sending an echo down the hall that left me wondering if I said something to offend him.

000-000-000

It was hours after Edward dropped me off in my room. I sat with my head between my knees willing myself to find a way to fix the situation. Instead, I kept thinking about all the things I did to break it. The _Rosalie Experience_ being one of them.

Everything about Edward and I was brief and fleeting. A brief moment of silent interaction here, a fleeting second of hopefulness here. Chopped up and spread over a long period of time like some kind of frugal baker with his last jar of sprinkles. I got up eventually, still shocked from everything from the letter to the presents to the anxiety of him being in my room and crawled into bed.

The snow glob sat on the bed side table and I poked it, agitating the flecks of sparkles that rested on the tip of the Eiffel Tower. I wondered about the significance of it. Why Paris? I don't think I mentioned anything about Paris in any tweet or writing assignment. Still, I enjoyed the mystery. I've always wanted to go there and now I had a souvenir of my own.

Yeah, I felt kind of shitty that he bought me _presents. _Correction, I felt really, _really _shitty. It helped that he mentioned in the letter that he'd been collecting these things over time to give to me when we started communicating more. But, by giving them to me all at once, I gathered that he was giving up. It was a farewell and purging of his own.

I think I may have lost my chance with him.

I didn't sleep well at all that night.

On Boxing Day, I avoided the mall and caught up with job applications I've been meaning to write cover letters for. On New Year's Eve, I went out to have a drink at a bar in the city, ignoring the kissing that went on between friends, strangers and couples. After that, I wandered downtown for a bit and went home after I got tired of staring at the icy lake front. Before long, campus was alive with the hustle and bustle of a new semester, new year and new everything. I received money from my parents and Phil, totalling a whopping seven hundred dollars, and put that away in an investment. Besides going to the bank to deposit the cheques, I stayed at home watching movies on Netflix, reading and cooking soup.

Soup became my staple method of nourishment and I couldn't give a damn about how it tasted either.

It was a day or two after Alice didn't come back that I realized I was moping. Mourning the loss of what _could _have been, rather. I got an email saying that she was staying another week – it was the second anniversary of her twin's death. I felt awful for not being out there and enjoying life as I should have. Edward and I weren't even dating, for goodness sakes! But still, even after an ultimatum, I couldn't get over it. I couldn't get over him. And I couldn't get over the fact that I was a coward. I did this to myself. I beat myself up thoroughly for it. I stayed in bed, wandering outside only to enjoy the variety of food in the cafeteria.

The day that Alice arrived, she found me face first in my pillow. The room was a mess, the curtains drawn, leaving the room in utter darkness. I wish I felt as horrible as the room and I looked combined. I felt even worse.

I was in the cafeteria sitting cross-legged with a bowl of cereal on the table in front of me. I ate mechanically, pondering my position in the ecosystem that was the mess hall. I figured I was somewhere along the bottom, the A-teams and B-teams all composed of the student government hordes, athletes and other members of the in crowd.

The person who sat at the table before me left a campus paper folded into a tent-like structure. With a slap, I flattened it so it looked a little bit uniform, save for the crumples and pages that were half falling out. It wasn't today's paper, but it was recent enough to let me know that I missed out on a lot of things in the normal human world. I promised that I'd insert myself back into reality after today – I completely forgot Alice was coming back so that day would be moved forward one. I slid it nearer. I had nothing else to do and reading the paper was something that people normally did at breakfast. I wasn't normally _people _lately so I did some feigning.

It was so ironic that it was equally humorous and frightening because on the front page was a special about ten students who all won spots in an exclusive, prestigious and other hoity-toity worded exchange program that not only fast-tracked them to the end of their major and minor of choice, but also took them into another country for cultural enrichment. For a year. Edward smiled up at me, bronze haired, cheeky smiled and all from the first box of the profiles section.

_EDWARD CULLEN, FIRST YEAR_

_MAJOR: English  
MINOR: Biology _

_PLACEMENT: Paris, France; Oxford, England_

How did you learn about this opportunity?_ I applied for this after one of my short stores was published in the paper. Somebody noticed that I had a knack for explaining things, I guess. I'm not anything special, but I'm extremely grateful for the chance to become a more interesting person. _

What do you think will be difficult about this?_ My French skills will be tested, but other than that I think I'm ready. It'll be difficult to finish four years of university in one…that I think will be the most difficult thing._

__You leaving a special someone behind?_ I'd prefer to not comment about that. It's a silent truce we've declared. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking._

You'll be given three wishes upon arriving at your placement. Have you given any thought as to what they might be?_ I think I want to write a novel…yeah…that's the only one I ever considered seriously. The others range from bringing my family in to come visit me to buying a plot of land in my name so I can be a Lord. _

What is your opinion on a local matter that you feel strongly about?_ I've got a thing against homelessness and people being without the basic necessities of life. I've always found time to volunteer at the local shelter so I'm sad to not be able to do that from Europe. I feel like we've got more than enough resources to go around and more. _

I read the rest of the article with the wrist of my sweater between my teeth, soggy and tasting like detergent. That explains the snow globe and croissant recipe. It didn't say anything about when they left so I hoped to god that he was still home. I felt incredibly proud of him. So proud that he was on his way to reach his goals and then some. I ditched the paper on my desk with Edward's face and the line where he said _silent truce _and _wishful thinking. _No, it wasn't wishful thinking. Yes, it is a silent truce.

I wanted to break my silence. I wanted to. I _needed to. _

For the first time this year, I felt a surge of hope overwhelm me. It completely obliterated all the negative feelings I had pent up inside of me. I felt the good kind of anxiety. I felt the good kind of heart attack. I felt the good kind of burn in my legs as I pumped them faster and faster down the sidewalk. I pushed open his gate and stormed up the steps, taking three at a time instead of two.

I knocked. I knocked like hell. I knocked for five minutes and stood there listening for any movement behind the door. His Volvo was in the driveway, but there was no imprint in the snow of it backing up recently. He must have been gone before the last snowfall.

That was last year.

I turned my head when I saw something move in my peripheral. I moved to the edge of the porch where a string of Eiffel Towers and France flags hung listlessly from the floor's edging. When I saw his family on Christmas, I must have missed it. In fact, I wondered how much like a barrette Edward's beanie looked like. It wasn't just a Christmas Party, it was Edward's _going away_ party. It was his _won't see you for a year and when I do I'll be a PhD student and an author _party. It was his _I'll find a French girl or English girl to replace you with _party. It was his _I get the point, you don't want to wait for me anymore party so I'll cut my losses now since I would have made you wait an even longer time for me _party.

What Edward didn't know and what I was dying to tell him as I slumped into a snowy chair on his porch was that I wanted to wait. I was willing to wait as long as he wanted me to because as crazy as it sounded, I was in love with him. And people did crazy things when they were in love.

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**A/N: Please review! 3 **


	5. Chapter 4: Of Unwanted Memories

**A/N: Hey everyone! Here's a chapter...in EPOV! I had a hard time writing it, and I'll admit, Edward's past circumstances hit me quite hard. I've never read a story with this version of Edward so if you do know of any, please share! I love me some characters with a difficult past. I get to connect the dots to see how they've been affected by it. **

**As always, enjoy!**

**I haven't gotten a review for this story yet, le sigh, but I'm hopeful! I need to know if this is keeping anyone's interest...which I think it is because I've been getting e-mails like mad! However, I need some reassurance.**

**Please, let me know what you think!**

Discuss with me, if you want! I'm always up for a conversation! 

**-DD**

**Disclaimer: I own the story but the characters belong to the lovely Stephanie Meyer. Do you think she reads FanFiction? **

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**CHAPTER 4: **

** EDWARD**

My luggage rolled, jolted and bumped behind me sending up a spew of muddy gravel around my black pant legs. With an umbrella in hand, I followed the man who met me at the gates where my cab dropped my off. Lord Chester Blake had a head of salt and pepper hair and weathered skin dotted with liver spots. He was speed walking towards the main entrance faster than I could keep up with, my duffel bag colliding painfully into my left thigh. The rain fell in ice cold singularities, each one seen individually, landing with an audible _splat. _Pausing to admire the view before me – even the soggy version of Oxford, England was spectacular – Lord Blake harrumphed from under the alcove he was waiting under, his _ahem _amplified. I didn't decide if he was a grumpy old fart or if he was sore about having to pick me up in the rain. At least the wind decided to hold its breath.

I walked slowly, because that was the most comfortable speed for me, to where the man stood, both of us in similar attire – wet blazers and muddy trousers. I wondered if this guy had a pair of jeans in his closet. I looked at his profile, he was studying the entrance with a frown all the while straightening his tie and lapels. He then peered down at me through his spectacles questioningly. _No, _I thought. _Probably not. _

Awkwardness smothered the air between us, and I looked away, moving my eyes to the double doors that were opening, much too slowly for my liking. Lord Blake stepped through even before they were opened fully and was greeted by the shuffling of feet. I stepped through just in time to see him push his way through a barrage of students to get to the hallway behind them. I looked at their faces – each one of them smartly dressed I might add – and decided that the old fart really was an old fart. They relaxed immeasurably when I smiled politely, saying my hellos.

A woman on the end stepped forward, a tight pencil skirt wrapped around her thighs, disappearing under her suit jacket. "Well, since _that_ was your first impression of what people are like here, Mr. Cullen, I'll be the first to tell you that it's going to be smooth sailing from here on out. Welcome to The University of Oxford England, home to many scholars such as yourself."

"Thank you," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm Charlotte Chambers, but please, call me Lottie." She shook my hand vibrantly. "I'll be your guide for the duration of your stay and your liaison for whatever resources you may need on the outside."

"Allow me to show you to your room. They will take your bags," she said, motioning to the group. I didn't protest. I was aching all over and itching to ditch my luggage anyway. She led me through the corridor opposite the one the asshat went through. Her heels clicked on the marble flooring, each step jutting her hips out just so. She was a young thing, a couple years older than I was, probably. She had a pretty face and a body to make men salivate. Feeling nothing but regret, I focused on the walls and ceiling. And architecture.

And light fixtures.

Then the whispering of the students behind me.

"When they built this place, they were very keen on being able to reach all buildings without having to go outside. They succeeded for the most part," she said with a smile. "Reason being, most of the men who used this place first were deathly afraid of getting their hair wet."

We passed by a wall of windows looking out on to the quad. A man using his briefcase as an umbrella raced across the grass, stupidly forgetting that it was slick and slipped. Both feet flailing in the air before he landed on his back. Everyone laughed.

"Some things just never change."

I nodded, finding the humor in his fall but feeling disoriented enough to not find the effort to laugh. I decided that disoriented was how I felt. Good enough adjective to describe something I couldn't fucking put my finger on.

After going through a set of doors, passing through another corridor and up an elevator shaft, my guides and luggage-carriers presented me to my room.

"I'll be back in four hours to debrief you on everything," she said, opening the door for me. "Until then, you had better be unpacked. Day offs come few and far between, mate." She winked with a grin, then ordered the others to drop my stuff _in the foyer. _Foyer. Because my room was bigger than a regular dormitory, bordering a one-bedroom apartment complete with office space, a living and dining room, a kitchen, a four piece bath – there was a second toilet used to wash one's _arse_ – and laundry machines, tucked away in a closet. The _dorm_ was magnificent.

I wondered what I had done to deserve this and sobered up a little, coming out of the daze I was in ever since I stepped onto the damn airplane at Pearson International. It was surreal. All of it was. Winning a scholarship was one thing but being lucky enough to win _this _one was truly mind-boggling. I took a seat on the leather couch, sinking into the cushion, trying to take it all in. I think it finally sunk in as I sunk into the couch – staring at the wine cooler across from me did it. I grabbed a glass and a bottle of red, truly not interested in the age, price nor exclusivity of the wine, and poured myself a generous amount.

"To this," I toasted with a shrug. I took a sip and then some before sinking back onto the couch. I sat across the plasma television, still not comprehending the good luck I've been given. Conditions aside, I was a lucky mother fucker who happened to stumble upon one hell of a recruiter. Jasper Whitlock, my right hand man and mentor, found me and took me under his smelly armpit/wing and showed me my potential.

Actually, he slapped me with my newspaper article, chastising me for not telling him about my literary prowess. He told me to hang back after a tutorial one day, made me fill out an application and pleaded my case in front of the admissions staff – as did the other recruiters. Before I knew it I was in a whirlwind of meetings, interviews, debriefings and other prepatory crap that served as a gentle reminder of how unfit I saw myself to be here. I shook my head, trying to will the narcissistic asshole that resided in my brain to sleep…or fall off a bridge. Jasper was a huge help and I owed him a paragraph or two in the book I'd be writing here, but his need to guide me on _every _aspect of my life – love life included – resulted me in having my heart bruised, if not broken.

I downed the entire glass. "Don't even go there," I said to myself. "Just don't." I tugged at my hair, begging my head to switch gears. Anything.

After another glass, I moved with purpose, putting away everything I packed, stopping only to admire the impressive book shelves that lined my office walls. Everything ranging from Woodsworth to Duffy, and even some modern works from Picoult were lined up meticulously on the edges. Before all of this, this lifestyle was completely alien to me. Having grown up in relative poverty, I thanked my stars for this endless bout of good fortune I had bestowed upon me. I mulled this over as I hung my ratty t-shirts in the wardrobe, each one from my past life.

I had three hours left. That was too much free time. Each passing second was like the tightening of a rope around my limbs. If I didn't find something to busy myself in the next five minutes I'd be forced to my knees. If I let my mind wander I'd be pulled backwards only to be eaten alive by my thoughts. Reading provided the only way to surrender my mind.

I did something I didn't normally do that day. I drifted off. I took my mind off the book for all but two minutes…

I relived a night with my mother and father, just days before…before…

"Where to now, darling?"

We were walking along the harbour, nighttime blanketing the nightclub district in an infectious desire for adventure. We'd gotten McDonalds Value Meals after I finished my shift at the community center. My fingers ached from giving so many piano lessons. Tomorrow I'd be hauling ass on the newspaper line, packing flyers in like a mad person. I sported paper cuts on my fingers, adding to the pain.

I took up jobs like I breathed oxygen – we needed the money to pay for rent, all of us worked minimum wage _somewhere _in the city – leaving me hardly any time for homework let alone school. I skipped at least two days in a week, depending if I was scheduled during the day time. Most often, I'd work the graveyard shift. I hopped from job to job most nights and came home just in time for coffee and school.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights.

My family and I took advantage of shiftless evenings by walking. Walking everywhere. We didn't have a car and the public transit had hiked their fares up yet again, changing their bus tickets. We would have to wait for a month or so to get the counterfeit ones from our neighbour.

Somehow, we ended up two and a half hours away from our housing complex at the harbour front. My mother squealed in delight. Dancing was one of her favorite things to do. It didn't matter what the song was, she'd dance anyway. So when we caught the threads of techno music blaring from a club some odd blocks away, and my father asked her what she'd like to do next, we began to run. We all became quite in tune with the other's likes and dislikes, becoming excited for each other and with each other at the opportunity to do something that made the other happy.

We were in the parking lot, now able to hear the music and feel it in our chest cavities. My mother giggled and started fist pumping like the people we saw through the open doorway. She was infectious, her laughs and energy making us helpless. We couldn't help but follow her lead. All of us collapsed in a heap – fit – of giggles when the song ended, morphing into another song.

Walking home that night, my shoes broke. They were already two sizes too small, holey and worn when we found them weeks ago in a donation bin in Scarborough. Before we got home, we stopped by a Value Village and broke in to the back doors where the drop box was, finding new pairs of shoes for all of us and an Elvis impersonator CD for my mom, a cookbook for my dad and a university level Biology textbook for me. I'd never taken the course seriously before, but that night I thought I found my calling.

I woke up to a call, our shrill telephone telling me I was due for a shift in the afternoon. After a breakfast of stale bread and a slice of cheese I received another one. I was to work two graveyards at the 24-hour Tim Horton's in North York, a three and a half hour walk from home. I hugged my mother and father goodbye and wished them a good day at their jobs – my mother a housekeeper, librarian and babysitter, my father a sous-chef, dishwasher and bus boy at the same restaurant he worked in when he was my age.

I lifted my backpack from the floor beside the front door and hiked it over my shoulder. As I did, the right strap ripped, sending the entire thing sailing into our potted fake fern. It bounced up and down on the wood-printed linoleum floor, I shared a panicked glance with both my parents before placing it back on the cardboard box it sat on. The plant housed a few hundred grams of pot and crack cocaine, all belonging to some idiot who planted it in our backyard thinking we'd never find it or worse, get caught with it on our property and be charged for it.

We kept it just in case we ever were in a real emergency – like if one of us got sick or hurt.

I had a hard time walking to school with only one usable strap. The biology textbook was in there along with the other textbooks from school, weighing it down. I was unable to buy a lock from the main office when I was in grade nine and I've made due without it since then.

Toronto falls were almost always an extension of summer. However, as it neared December, I worried if the bus tickets wouldn't be ready before the first snowfall. Really, I was worried for my mother. She got sick easily – hell we all did because our diets were so _nutritional _– and I wasn't sure how I felt about her working so far away. When the bus fares rose in the winter, we were almost always fucked. No, we always were.

I got to school late and walked into my history class halfway through. I was a skinny, tall, lanky kid with a mop of dull red brown hair like the surface of Mars in the shadows. I'd never touched a razor in my life – they were too costly and an unnecessary luxury for us – so my face held a dirty mustache all throughout freshman and junior year. Last summer it grew in and I enjoyed the scruff when I looked myself in the mirror. Now, coupled with my hair, I looked like a homeless man. I couldn't wait until the toiletry drive next week.

I'd steal us treasures that would last until the new year.

Hopefully I could get my father and I shaving kits or maybe even a pair of sheers so we wouldn't have to give ourselves trims with the dull kitchen knives.

The seas parted like I was Moses as I walked to my seat. Each individual leaned away from the walkway because I probably smelled like shit. I sure looked like it. We did laundry once a month and even then it was in our bath tub with a box of Tide powder detergent because the liquid stuff was uneconomical.

A few people snickered because they knew _of_ me. I was a broke as fuck street kid for all they knew. Never had money for lunch, always wore the same pants, shirts, sweaters to school, always looked like a zombie and hell! Probably did meth, pot, crack and alcohol too.

As if I could afford it.

Over time, I got used to it. To the stares, to the whispers, to the wandering eyes in the cafeteria as I put my head down, I trying to sleep. It was worse when I came back from an extended leave – also known as work shifts – teachers even stared at me like I grew three heads. I didn't blame them for sending me to the guidance office to get myself sorted out. I told them I wasn't interested in school for no apparent reason. My parents came in a couple of times for meetings with me present – some with me not – and they always hammed it up. They expressed their grief with the counsellor who gave me pointed looks that said _see? Your parents love you and you're hurting them _but to be honest, we were in it together. Making ends meet was our living and I was more than happy, willing and excited to finally be able to do my part.

It wasn't that I thought education was useless, it was just that I found out that I learned – or anyone for that matter – learned more by experiencing life as an adult at an early age. I knew finances better than my chums at school, and hell if anyone asked, I knew the walking distance from Toronto to Pickering and how many sweet spots there were in terms of food, clothing and other cheap finds.

I may have been raised differently, to be more tough than the average kid and adult, but that still didn't mean I had different cravings. I discovered girls, but the ones at my school were pretty and pretty stupid. I found some women – teachers, actually – at my school who I got along splendidly with, but then lunchroom rumors about who I was and what I do clouded their judgement about me. I cared, but not enough to tell them outright, _I'm no druggie or runaway, just a poor boy from a poor family. _

Whatever.

I took notes, not really giving a shit or two about Canadian History because it was not only boring as fuck but that general knowledge certainly was of no use for me. Where were the classes about banking? About standing up to yourself to judgemental assholes?

No fugging clue. The educational system sprouted off generic thinkers every which way. I feared for the future of innovation and for the kids I may or may not have seeing as I was one unattractive fellow.

Borderline anorexic and severely underestimated.

At least I'd get to pig out at Tim Horton's tonight.

The cafeteria was a hullaballoo of particles. I smelled the cafeteria food and my stomach growled. Clearly the baguette a la fromage really satiated me this morning. I left fourth period early so I could get a head start on my walk to the newspaper factory. A whopping eight hours of assembling flyer packages awaited me. At least I didn't have to deliver anymore. I tried to stay away from jobs that required more than five hours of walking. That was death for my already aching feet.

I started on some homework since I got to work early. Sitting on the front steps, I was approached about an hour later by security asking me to leave the premises immediately as _there's no loitering allowed. Beat it bud!_ Imagine my embarrassment when he didn't believe I worked there because _I was nothing but a street kid wishing he made $11.50/hour. _I had to call my manager from a pay phone and waste a dollar that I had saved for a _real _emergency call only to find out that I was A) fired and B) they didn't want someone as shabbily dressed as myself representing the company.

Says the company specializing in handing out coupons and sales deals to poor fucks like me. _I fucking represent you assholes, _I wanted to scream.

But I didn't say anything. I just hung up. It wasn't the first time this happened and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Mr. Security guard laughed an ugly laugh at me and I wished that the ground would open its mouth and swallow me whole.

I decided to show up at Tim Horton's early and see if they needed any extra help. My manager declined politely and so I roamed the vicinity for anywhere that had a printer. I spotted a library and took the library card I saved for resume-printing situations and did just that.

Imagine my surprise as I received countless no's only to have them disappear under an apologetic smile once they got a look at my experience. Seventeen years old and a job experience of a fifty-year-old. I bagged a job as a store room clerk – nothing new to me – before my shift at Tim's started up. Taking one look at my haggard face – I utterly exuded exhaustion – my supervisor sent me home with a coffee and donut.

I planned to stuff my face that evening and steal a couple sandwiches and drinks for my parents so of course I begged him to let me stay before I headed home. I trekked home in the bitter cold, wondering what my parents were going to eat that night. I gave the damn coffee and donut to an equally as homeless looking woman on the corner of Bay and Bloor.

We all ate or none of us ate. That was how it went.

I arrived home, hopping the fence in the backyard – a litter dumping ground from the balconies above us more like it – as I normally did after school. The druggies and gangsters liked to hang out in the patch of grass and benches by the main entrance and just by being a white boy looking the way I do, I called for trouble. Each time I tried going through the front doors I was beat up. The last time it happened I got my textbooks stolen and had to steal another set from my teachers.

I hoped that we could all head to the McDonalds around the corner. The people there knew us and sometimes took pity on us and gave us our meals for free. Maybe today would be our lucky day.

I lifted the sliding glass door to unhook it from its lock and slid it open. Locking it behind me, I realized that it was dark as hell in the apartment which was strange since my parents should have been home by four. It was then that I heard movement in the kitchen and living room. I called for my parents and received a _Don't come in yet! _yelled by my father. I, of course, would never head a warning that was followed by the smashing of dishes and my mother's screams.

I felt the wall for the light switch and flicked it on, and waited the few seconds before the dingy bulb turned on with an audible zap.

The living room was drenched in the orange light, but my parent's faces – my father's beard predominantly – were drenched in powder. They stood, bent over the coffee table trying to hide the evidence. I saw the playing cards they used to make it linear. I saw the spoon. I saw the pipe, still burning its load.

The potted plant was on the floor, rolling on its side.

And they had the audacity to laugh.

Not that they could help it, of course.

They were high as kites by that point.

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**A/N: And that was a slice into Edward's life. :'(**


	6. Chapter 5: Feelin' Good

**A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome, welcome to chapter five! I hope you've been enjoying your stay so far. If so, drop me a line! I love to hear what you have to say - encouragement always helps.**

**As per usual, I don't have a Beta and tend to send out chapters as soon as I write 'em. If you see anything wrong tell me, especially if something doesn't follow from the previous chapters.**

**Thank you to all those who added me to their Alert/Favorite list. I smile at each and every email and give you a big 'ol virtual hug!**

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**There's a lemon in this chapter...so if you have a case of citrusitis, then you should have checked the 'M' in the summary. 'M' as in Mmmmmmmm...Mhm... in this case. *Winks***

**Enough with the A/N and let's get on with it!**

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* * *

**CHAPTER 5: **

** EDWARD**

I sagged against the headboard with the pulverized book in my hands. Without even realizing it, I was breathing something fast and fierce, my body soaked in sweat. I gazed around the room, reassuring myself that I was here in the now and not there in the then. My eyes landed on the window pane, and the grey sky flooded the room in the same grey light. The rain droplets were shadowed across the floor and the opposite wall, bending at the baseboards.

I gave myself no time to think, I raced to the bathroom for the medicine cabinet and tore through it for the one bottle of pills I needed to take immediately. I'd forgotten to do so on the plane. Everything I dumped out of it landed in the sink. My vision was becoming bleary and I realized that I was fighting tears. With a shaky grip, I popped the lid of the orange cylinder open and took two into the palm of my hand. I took a paper cup from one of the several stacks lying separated from its package in the sink and filled it with a burst of water.

I swallowed the pills and stripped to my boxers right after, discarding my clothes into the laundry basket in the corner. Breathing heavily, I stared at my reflection standing hunched over in the dark of the room. One by one I replaced the items in their proper spot, reciting the numbers of Pi as I went along. I denied myself of having free thoughts until the medicine took effect.

I went to the living room, muttering the numbers as I shut the lights, drew in the blinds and curtains. I pushed the coffee table aside and laid on my stomach, moving my hands in position to raise myself in a push-up. Increased blood flow equaled faster drug distribution. One pill was strong enough to relax me. Two, enough to let me get my shit together, taking my thoughts out of me. Three, and you'd have me in a vegetative state. Unresponsive and bedridden until it passed from my system.

It took nearly two hundred reps until I found that I couldn't hold my place in the Pi numbers anymore. I took that as my cue and slowly walked back to the bedroom and into the bathroom, pulling my boxers down when I passed the basket. I turned the shower on and stood in the tub waiting for the ice cold water to finally run warm. I washed my skin methodically, grateful for not feeling like I wanted to jump out of it. I quite enjoyed massaging my scalp with shampoo and did just that.

I rubbed my biceps, my abs, my shoulders, feeling the muscles and tendons roll under my fingertips with the slickness of the shampoo to encourage it. My hands travelled lower, and I gave myself one, two, three decent tugs before I hardened completely. When my doctor suggested – ordered, really – that I masturbated to amp up the good feelings I had, I blushed. Not only were Carlisle and Esme there as my parents, but he even asked me if I was familiar with the term and if I did it regularly. I'd answered a truthful few times a month if the urge came which was to be expected since I'd just been diagnosed with _issues. _At the thought of my parents, I softened, turned off by wanking with their image in my mind. I quickly shifted gears, finding something else in my cloudy brain. A porno I'd watched out of curiosity.

Okay, so her ass was grinding backward cowgirl style into the guy's lap, his dick becoming visible for a fraction of a second before disappearing into her again. Right, okay next image. This time she was facing forward, face-caked with makeup and eyes scrunched in fake-orgasm. Moving on, her boobs bouncing up and down in the guy's face. The noises, moans and grunts coming from the both of them. I couldn't find anything to really make me spurt off.

I tried leaving my mind empty, focusing on the sensation of my hands wrapped around my shaft but that lasted for all of two minutes before I became bored. Bored with masturbation? Yeah, I know. Racking my brain for all things I found remotely sexy, I found it. And as much as I wouldn't want to admit it, I had to say: it was an image I was all too familiar with. I was way past feeling creepy about it by this point – it was my go-to movie reel.

Bracing myself against the wall, I brought the fantasy to the forefront of my mind.

…

I was working at the dining room table, all of my essays sprawled out in front of me like a tornado had ripped through the room. I had been nodding off every now and then for the past hour and the coffee I downed not too long ago was swirling around in my blood, making me feel a false sense of alertness. I focused on my notes, going through them with a highlighter and re-read the bolded words several times over to ensure I had them down pat. Like all exams, I sat my ass down in this chair for hours on end since the beginning of the month before the actual thing.

Bella had been pretty pissed off that I decided to spend the majority of my free time studying, so when she passed by every now and then to go to the kitchen, I learned that it was best to keep my head down or else face her insanely effective puppy dog eyes…or her wrath. I heard her little feet padding down the stairs, probably in search of food or something. I held my breath, focusing on hearing her movements to guess where she was going and released it when I heard the leather couch cushions rub together and the television turn on. I could tell she was pissed off – she turned up the volume as loud as her ears could take it. I chuckled to myself and put my earphones on, scrolling to the classical music playlist on my iPod. I looked behind me to see her head resting on the arm rest, her brown hair cascading over it. She knew how much her hair taunted me. She looked damn sexy with it down. I pushed my glasses down my nose to see her better.

A couple of songs in, in the gap between songs, I realized that I couldn't hear the TV anymore and I could study in silence again. With the contraption set aside and my glasses beside it, I took a break and went to the kitchen for a glass of water and found Isabella leaned over the kitchen sink with her hands on either side of it. She was in boxers and a tank top. Her long legs ending in the furry socks she liked to wear so much. She understood how wearing my clothes had a huge effect on me. I swallowed, willing myself to be abstinent. Not wanting to bug her, I opted for the bottled kind and headed to the fridge. I downed it, not even realizing how thirsty I was, and went to throw it in the bin. I didn't even hear Isabella make her escape. I felt a pang of confliction. I _had _to study, but she was making it so hard to _want _to.

When I was settled in my chair again, I searched for my glasses. I was sure I put them down beside my iPod. I looked on the floor around me; it was quite possible that I dropped them. Not believing they weren't in the vicinity, I pushed my chair back and there they were, under the table.

Perched upon Isabella's perfect nose as she gazed at me from her knees.

Suddenly, she launched herself at me, taking the waistband of my shorts into her hands and tugging them down.

My hips were oh-so happy to oblige. They lifted, helping her to pull them down all the way.

My dick, already at attention, twitched at seeing Isabella between my legs. With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she licked her lips.

"Fuck, Isabella. Fu-_uck."_

"If you're asking me to fuck you, Edward, I'll happily oblige."

Without warning – though her sudden appearance down there was an indication – she took me into her mouth…but only for a brief second. I instantly missed the warmth. My cock twitched towards her, nearly brushing her lips.

"Tease," I groaned.

"Me? _Never. _You on the other hand have made me take things into my _own _hands."

With that she grasped me, her hands already making my hips buck off the chair. I resisted the urge to close my eyes, wanting to see her with my glasses and boxers on her and her hand disappearing between her legs. Faster and faster she went, and it soon became too much. Between watching her hand pump me, herself, and the way her boobs moved with it, I had to close my eyes and grip my thighs. It took all I had not to forcibly put her mouth on me, though I fucking craved her, I knew a thing or two about dominant Bella. She'd tease me endlessly if I didn't let her do things her way.

I moaned, feeling warmth spread like a wave throughout my body, signaling how close I was getting. With all the late night study sessions and full day revision units I'd been doing, I didn't have the time nor energy to sex or be sexed. As fucking hard as it was to refrain from being intimate with Isabella, I did it.

Why _the fuck _did I ever think that was a good idea?

I wasn't going to hold out any longer, and after muttering a series of profanities I began to beg her to take me out of my misery. With her lips tantalizingly close to my cock, her warm hand tugging me into another dimension and her brown eyes staring up at me naughtily she sent me over the edge –

And let me stay there.

Wordlessly, she pushed my chair back, all the while I gaped at her.

"Fuck, Isabella. _Please,_" I couldn't stand the heat any longer. My balls ached, not knowing what the fuck to do with the load they were just going to let go of. I couldn't even do it myself, she'd draw the ache out even longer and make me absolutely combust the _long _fucking way.

"I'll fuck you, Edward," she said as she took off her shirt, revealing her perfect breasts to me.

"Oh, fucking god, please. Please." I was salivating. I needed her. I needed her _now._

She took of her shorts, and I twitched at the sight. She was commando. In my boxers. And she was a fucking beautiful specimen.

She hopped on the table without clearing it and leaning back on my notes, my textbooks and essays, she brought her feet up to the corners, giving me a perfect view of her pussy and all its glory. She was wet. For _me, _she was wet and fucking glistening. She scooted as far to the edge as she could go.

_Give me strength to not blow up in flames._

"On one condition," she said as she propped herself up on an elbow. Her hair drifted to one side, and I just about growled.

With a radiant smile she beckoned to me. I stood, removing my shirt as well. I watched Isabella's eyes glaze over, her lids hooding them. She reached over and took my left hand and placed it on her right knee. She did the same with the other, this time giving each finger a wet kiss.

"What's the condition, _Isabella?_" I demanded, seeing her resolve melt away at the tone of my voice.

With a deep breath she raised her body to meet me, our lips finding each other in the middle. With a kiss that seared right through me like a branding iron, she spoke softly, looking right into my soul with those eyes.

"Fuck. Me."

She barely made it back down before I slid myself into her tight pussy. We cried out simultaneously, feeling the fullness of our connection immediately. Once, twice, three times I slammed my hips into her, ramming the table each time. I took my hands from her knees, grateful that she relinquished the control to me, and moved her feet to my shoulders. I grabbed her hips and she bucked into me from the sudden contact. I pulled her the rest of the way down the table and pulled her against me.

Again and again, I thrust into her at the same time I brought her hips down. She screamed out in tongues, emanating gasps as I hit the right spot every. Single. Time. I willed myself to hold off until she had hers. She deserved it and hell, I'd make it the best fuck to date. I focused on my breathing, taking the time to push the pending explosion inside of me aside. I ran through the mechanics of the position we were in now. I had no qualms with it, and neither did Isabella. Every thrust would make her see stars and judging by the way her face scrunched and her thighs quivered, she was close.

I leaned over her, folding her body in half as I quickened my pace. Kissing her lips, I couldn't hold back a moan. She wrapped her arms around me, holding herself to my frame. I pushed the glasses off her face with my nose and I kiss her eyelids, leaving her mouth free to spurt of another series of profanities.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted into my ear. "Yes, oh my god! Yes! Yes!"

I fucking adored the sounds of sex. The slap of our skin together, the shifting of the table under us and the floorboards creaking under my feet. The repetitive sounds only served to remind me of my rhythm inside of Isabella. Her curses let me know where she was along her road to orgasm – close very close – and I fed on every one, but the way her body reacted to me was in a category on its own.

The tremble spread from her thighs, to her calves and to her toes.

Her breathing stuttered, she held it, not believing how blissful it would feel for the slow burn to give way to a blazing fire.

I stuck my hand between us and searched for her clit, when I found it I began to circle it. Isabella's moan went out of this fucking world. She writhed under me, gasping as she tried to get me to remove my hand. I was touching her clit directly and I knew that she couldn't handle how good it felt. I didn't think that she could get any wetter, but she did. Soon, her squelches accompanied our symphony.

Not tiring – not allowing myself to tire anyway – I picked up my pace again, slamming into her like a jack hammer. My lips found a nipple and I took her between my teeth, sucking and biting as I pleased.

"YES! OH MY GOD! EDWARD, EDWARD DON'T STOP!" She begged.

Faster and faster my fingers went, making the heat unbearable for her to withstand for too long. I then latched onto her neck, finding the spot on her collarbone that drove her wild.

Isabella gasped, a scream then ripping from her throat.

"EDWARD!"

She cursed at me, over and fucking over. Her walls clamped down on me, pulling and tugging and tightening around me sending me into the fire with her. I couldn't keep at it, I couldn't. I tried to hold off, I emptied into her, pulsing into her now-sensitive pussy causing her to squirm.

"Fucking shit, oh fuck, Bella. Bella, Bella, Bella baby."

I panted, feeling Isabella's breasts pressed against my chest. Our skin was slick with sweat, and I kissed her shoulder anyway, coming down from a high I'd happily get addicted to any day.

…

God, I felt so fucking good. Like the rush of cars on an empty highway, the gateway for my pending happiness opened up and by god, I was riding a high. I stood under the running water, turning it as hot as I could stand it, and washed myself once again.

Usually, thinking about her would put me in a surly mood, but the medication was doing its job properly today – or was it the fucktastick wank? I felt pretty fucking stupid the first time I let my thoughts wander inappropriately towards Isabella. But it was a hell of a fantasy and like everything good – and like a good author – I wrote it all down, filling in the details. Hell, since she declared her disdain for me in so many words I decided that I'd keep just this part because it was the only thing I was physically unable to give away.

No amount of imagination could make me cum fast enough, and masturbation was doctor's order, in lieu of over the counter Oxytocin and other heavier prescriptions deemed too altering by my doctor of a father. Sometimes, I was unable to get hard. I'd gotten over that fact a while ago, but upon realizing that my body's chemistry fucked with any chance of fucking I may have, I was pretty devastated. I didn't get turned on often, but since meeting and having the sweet chance to be around Isabella, I didn't know what to do with myself. She brought on a powerful urge inside of me that I accepted would never happen – so long as I was kept sane by my meds. It was like she unlocked the gates of my sexuality where every single sexual feeling that was supposed to happen was kept, stored for her arrival into my life.

The second I met her, I knew I was absolutely and eternally _fucked. _

I remembered meeting her at the start of orientation. I walked up to the group late, having a bit of a social meltdown trying to get myself in a mood that allowed for social interaction. I left my house much later than I would have liked – it meant that I had to introduce myself to the group after they already did the necessary ice-breakers. Heads turned and I felt my pulse race. I hated it when people looked at me. I hated it when girls saw me as a conquest, or worse, as a piece of meat. It made me nervous, anxious and all the other things that my medications tried to subdue.

Some days, it was all one _okay _fest where I felt like standing water, having to really reach into the basket of masks I would be forced to put on. It was difficult to feel the correct emotional response sometimes – I offended many people.

Since moving in with my parents, my life changed dramatically. I was a different person entirely and looked it too. I gained a significant amount of weight with the personal trainer and nutritionist they hired for me. It didn't happen overnight. It took a gruelling amount of work to get to where I was today – an _ad-campaign for masculinity and Calvin Klein_ according to my trainer. Almost two years of exercise and therapy with a side of Zoloft, here I was.

Anyway, I wasn't used to the attention. I walked up to the group hoping to god the day would be over so I could bask in solitude. It was one of _those _days. The days where all I really wanted to do was crawl into fucking bed and read. They were in a circle and all eyes were on me when I introduced myself. They stood, the two male group leaders reminding their minions about the tradition. I freaked out. A girl came up to me and then the others stood behind her, forming a line. I remember feeling suffocated by my panic. I couldn't do it. I didn't want to be touched. I felt like my skin was tingling and I was vibrating so quickly that I'd turn invisible.

I wish I did.

I thought my group leaders were informed about my issues, apparently not. I endured. Tightly clenching my fists and smiling tightly when each person hugged me and pulled away. Some girls giggled, I received a _hey man, this is weird for me too, _and I knew that I should have smiled, but I nodded, hoping I wasn't being as asinine that I felt I was being.

When it was the last person's turn, I was struggling to contain myself, wanting to mutter a string of profanities. The girl pulled away, she was faceless, an unattractive gnat in my peripheral joining the other group buzzing around mindlessly. I waited for them to sit down in their stupid little circle so I could sit too. I realized that I was looking at my feet, so I looked up to see what they were doing. I saw that they were calling another girl over, she was busy looking at a monster of a tree. I chuckled, finding amusement in the way she clearly feigned not being able to hear them.

I saw the girl as I saw any other girl. Legs, butt, waist, breasts, arms and head. Each section I saw in passing, serving only to tell my brain that she was female. Another member of the group ran to her, and let her know of her duty as a team member to hug me, the newest member. _Fuck this tradition. Fuck all of this, _I remembered thinking.

She turned, and by god, I was stunned. The incessant whir of _if, if, if, _in my head stopped. My skin – my skin felt normal. A sharp pang in my gut almost brought me to my knees and it was as if I'd been washed in emotion, drenched in it – now drowning in it.

Her face, slightly covered by her wavy chestnut hair, was clear, flawless to the point of luminescence. Her lips, pulled into her mouth and bitten down on by square of white teeth, were the perfect shade of pink. Pliable, no doubt. The way her hips dipped and flowed reminded me of the cursive letter _B, _the special way I wrote it. Straight down, curved vertically upwards, one hump, another larger hump and then back around itself to join the next letters.

The next letters of _Beautiful. _The next letters of _Belissima. _The next letters in _Be Mine, baby. Be mine. _And then another mind took over. Her long legs added a whole new definition to_ legs. _Her fucking calves rippled, her thigh muscles contracted and relaxed under her skin and I felt my lower abdomen twinge. And with the _Boner_ of all boners, I praised my closet for putting the skin-tight asshole underwear at the top of the drawer. At least the monstrosity would be hidden.

I felt the zipper of my jeans, anyway.

I was turned on like never fucking before.

The next letters in _Bend over._ The next letters in, _Bare naked, writing under me as I make you scream my name._

Her eyes. _Her eyes,_ I reminded myself. _The girl had eyes. _And to add to the ever growing fascination of the letter _B, _her eyes were brown. The next letters in _Big brown eyes. _The most perfect shade caught my eyes and I felt my world teeter on its axis, suddenly deciding to ditch the sun – along with my Zoloft, books and parents – and now gravitate towards this…this…_woman. _I lurched toward her, angling my midsection to where she was walking. I felt her draw near, I felt the anxiety build up and burst into a puff of smoke as she came towards me.

Standing right in front of me she stood under my jaw. I was pleased as I was taller than most men. Looking up at me with a _Blush – _fuck me if I didn't love the letter _B _through and through – she leaned in, curling her body into me. She fit perfectly. I felt a dam break inside of me. I went from turned on, to mind blown, to scared, to worried (that she might feel my dick), to impressed, to amazed…then back to turned on again. I wanted to take her home and throw her on my bed and kiss the _fuck _out of her.

My heart made a lasso and looped it around hers in that moment, I was fucking sure of it, because from that point onwards she was all I could think about. _Fucking traitor. _I wasn't in any frame of mind, body and soul to take care of another person emotionally. If I did have her, I'd lose her within a week. I was a fucked up asshole with issues I couldn't even handle nor understand.

Nevertheless, I wrapped my arms around her, unlike the other people I hugged. It was a sort of hello and farewell thing, I supposed. Knowing that I could never have her made me put more effort into the hug. I tightened my hold, almost nuzzling her hair. She smelled like coconut and cinnamon, an odd combination, but it was hers, not like the flowery shit that assaulted my nose. She was soft, warm, and inviting. Her hips were even better when my hands were over them, fitting them like they were made for each other. I didn't want to lose this. I didn't want to lose her.

I couldn't fathom actively trying to forget about her.

Then I let her go, I had to, unwrapping myself from the single most perfect hug I had ever had in my life. The attraction I had to her was indescribable. I felt the strings of my heart tighten as she pulled away, pulling her end of the string with it.

In the present, I briefly wondered how the string was doing, floating above the Atlantic Ocean. My heart felt constricted and I took it as a good sign. _I'm here, still holding up you big wuss, _it said to me.

In my mind, I saw her blush taking over her face again. She looked up, her eyes looking at me so briefly that I had a mind to ask her to keep staring into my soul so I could see hers. She released the breath she was holding, and I smelled its minty taste as it blew over my shoulder.

With a small smile, she looked up at me again.

"Bella," she said, before skittering away to her previous spot. I watched her ass bounce in her loose cotton shorts. Good fucking thing it was sweltering out here.

And I knew right then and there that I was hers. Hooked, whipped, done, done and done a million times over. I was fucked.

So. Fucking. Fucked.

Her name was _Bella_. With a _B. _

How fitting.

I soon figured out that I was a masochist. I kept up the end of the bargain I made with myself. I wouldn't say a word to her in hopes that she would be deterred by it. If she thought I was uninterested in conversation, she'd leave me alone.

Hopefully I would too.

But that wasn't the case. Frosh Week was one thing, but seeing each other in classes where I was effectively barred from looking at her all the time was another thing. When she caught me looking, or when I caught her looking, I knew that my idea was fucked and flawed. She wasn't stupid, of course she wasn't. The girl was damn brilliant and had a mouth that never betrayed what she wanted to say. If I had things my way – if Jasper happened to look at her work before she looked at mine – she would be here.

I quickly realized that Isabella Swan, was kind-of-maybe-sorta interested in me. At least I hoped she was. So I did what any pathetic loser would do and start looking at things in stores or restaurants, and just about anything and related it to her. I wondered what Bella was into. I wondered where she might want to travel and what she wanted to be. I couldn't fucking forget about her. That wasn't the problem, though. The problem was getting Isabella to _not _like me. And sure as fuck Jasper did the worst thing imaginable right as soon as I was about to leave the country.

He purposely switched our private musings, giving mine to Bella's and Bella's to me. A second after realizing that it wasn't my paper it dawned on me that Jasper was doing this to show me how Bella felt about everything. I read feverishly. I knew for sure that she had a thing for me, and my knowledge was confirmed.

What I didn't expect was how blatant she was in saying that she wasn't going to wait anymore.

All the shitty presents I had collected for her I'd given with a somber cloud of dust swirling around me. I gave her my letter, wanting to give her my thoughts. I gave her the stupid Eiffel Tower because that's where I was going to be.

When she showed up at my door at my going away party, I knew conversation by that point would be moot. I'd mustered the energy to take the proper dose of meds and I felt superb, basking in the love my family had for me.

The second I saw her, I felt a deeper, darker mood take its place. It was healthy to feel sad once in a while, but the brunt of it was so winding that I couldn't collect myself. I let her run away from me.

What else could I do?

But I ran, I ran after her, dropping the wood and taking off the stupid barrette.

When we were in her room, when I set up her desk like a dinner table, when I stepped away and looked into her fucking eyes, everything I wanted to say to her to tell her was lost to me. I was trapped. She already knew my feelings and if I assured her that I would be willing to do a long distance relationship, it wouldn't matter. She didn't want to wait.

I couldn't make her wait an entire fucking year and then have the potential to be her damn TA. I'd be a selfish mother fucker to take her away from a better guy. I wasn't functioning properly. I needed help to be me, and that help came in the form on an orange pill bottle I'd have to take religiously until they found a cure.

Or until I got my shit together with therapy.

_Right. _

I fucking left without saying a word to her, even though the entire arrangement was void. I had been too scared. Too fucking bruised to say shit anything to her.

So now, an entire country away, an entire ocean away, here I was.

I got what I wanted.

I pushed Isabella away knowing that she was _it _for me.

I'd never fucking find anybody who silenced my mind the way she did. No one else would make me feel the way she did. There was no one else I would or could make love to, for that matter and there was no one else I could hold without feeling the need to push them away.

I fucking figured I loved her.

It was the only rational explanation for whatever I was feeling and how deeply I was affected by this all. I never cared so fiercely for anybody before, and if it wasn't our own flesh and blood, I knew I never would ever again.

Coming to terms with this loss was one of my goals here. And no amount of money could ensure that happened in a year in Europe.

I felt instantly deflated, instantly drained and horribly pensive. I wanted to gouge my brain out with a spoon and take out the parts that induced thoughts of her, like that movie with Jim Carrey in it.

Hearing a knock at the door was enough to put me out of my misery.

Ten hours of meetings and lectures?

I'll take it all. Each and every second I could spend not thinking about Isabella or anyone for that matter, past or present, was a god sent.

I began to realize how much of a blessing this scholarship was to me. I needed the insane amount of busyness to keep my thoughts at bay.

Lottie guided me down the hall once again, oblivious to the raging cauldron of turmoil I was drowning in and that she was really doing me a favor by throwing me to the lions in the meeting room.

From the oval table in the center of the room, each person looked up at me.

My eyes couldn't help but land on the girl with dark brown hair, pale skin and brown eyes. She was no Bella, but I hated her for existing right now.

With one look at me, her face morphed into one of pleasant surprise. Stephanie May Simpson, I saw her name on her plate card, was _twenty years old, had a cottage in the south west and loved English at a young age. She rode horses bareback, spoke German as well as Russian, and was a huge fan of Picasso. _She batted her eyelashes at me as I sat across from her. I didn't want to answer her questions but I had to, _politely. _

Another gnat.

And she was on the prowl.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Drop me a line and let me here ya! **


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